Nightside of Eden
by Videl Exumai
Summary: Hermione is attacked by a Vampire the night of the Quidditch World Cup. How is see suppose to maintain any sense of normality in a society controlled by bigotry and contempt? Also, what is to become of the feelings she feels for her best friend? Harmony, H/Hr, full fic, scenes of a erotic nature (Later in the story) Please Review
1. Vampire Heart

_**Nightside of Eden**_

_**Book One**_

_**Nightshade Romance**_

By – Videl Exumai

_Inspired by Man of Constant Sorrow_

_**Chapter One – Vampire Heart**_

_You can't escape the wrath of my heart  
Beating to your funeral song (You're so alone)  
All faith is lust for hell regained  
And love dust in the hands of shame (Just be brave)_

Let me bleed you this song of my heart deformed  
And lead you along this path in the dark  
Where I belong until I feel your warmth

Hold me like you held on to life  
When all fears came alive and entombed me  
Love me like you loved the sun  
Scorching the blood in my vampire heart

_**Vampire Heart – H.I.M**_

Warmth slowly seeped from her, heart fading, falling into the depths of oblivion. She heard her name, issue though the stark darkness, vibrant, fearful, concerned. She possessed neither the strength nor to will to claw her way back, felt the taint slowly claim her. Her last memories fear, a frightful, natural fear: the fear of the beyond. Darkness choked all sense of light, slowly she slipped into oblivion, her last thoughts were of him.

…

"Mr Potter, I must insist that you leave, this isn't healthy," how long she had dwelled in darkness Hermione knew not. Her gaze was still tainted by an intense, inky blackness, choking, void of colour or life. The depths beyond the veil a distant, hazed memory, all she understood now was the misted mutter of convocation seeping through the void.

The darkness began to clear, a tempered, concerned voice issued, a woman's voice, aged, authoritative, agonised. She heard no offered words in return, no acknowledgment, no response.

Her body felt cold, ice cold, a chill as great as death though she felt the distant tingling of feeling slowly seep back into her body. It was uncomfortable, a feeling only attributed to paresthesia, though not as painful as a chronic state, only… uncomfortable. The chill was worse. It seemed to envelop her, fill her, heart, body, soul, no warmth only stark feeling.

Through the distant haze of feeling and thought, so did Hermione sense the presence of another. She felt many, a great number of people, gathered close, felt the presence of one: familiar, acquainted, an intense, vibrant energy: Harry? Softly, his name issued from her throat, very speech was a chore, felt the energy grow joyous, thankful, ardent.

Hermione's eyes slowly opened, met by a rush if intense, brilliant colours. Her first sight was of stark white, the burn of magical were-lights, vivid, fierce. Confusion filled her senses, the sight of such intense colour too alien, unnatural.

Her next sight was of muted, magnolia walls, the feel of a mattress, stiff and firm beneath her. The scent of sterilisers filled her senses, burned, seared her sinuses.

Her name sounded bright and joyous across the bombardment of senses, felt her hand lifted from the stiff, un-downy mattress and enveloped in a deep, loving grip. It was this touch which forced through the hunger.

An intense, carnal thirst filled her very being, drew forth the sensation of need. Blood filled her mouth where once saliva would have moistened her tongue. The taste was horrific, sharp, filled with the acrid taste of iron. Her breathing began to hitch, through her fingertips, her very skin so did Hermione feel the intense flow of fresh, youthful blood seeping through the body of he who sort to comfort her.

Once soft, sweet brown eyes turned to sight who it was that teased her so. Felt a rush of emotions seer through her at the sight of her best friend: Harry James Potter. He stood at her bedside, eyes bright and tearful, encircled by the shadow of fatigue.

Hermione's breathing grew faster, felt the warm blood of him so deliciously close. He was speaking insubstantial words, words she nether heard nor comprehended. Her gaze fell to the vivid pulse in his neck, felt the hunger surge. She lunged.

Fear malformed the joy seen in his visage as he drew back, frightful, concerned.

"Stupefy!" a stream of red jets collided with Hermione's chest, knocking her backwards, driving her completely off her medical cot, her body falling to the polished white tile floor. Harry, shifting from extremes of emotion felt the fear flee from him, transmutating to furious concern. Turning Harry gazed aghast towards the many number of healers who had attacked Hermione.

"What are you doing?" Harry cried in fury, the healers of St Mongo's paid him no mind.

"Tie her down! She's crossed over!" stated the matron healer, her and a number of medi-wizards advanced on Hermione, wands outstretched. Forcefully, before he could offer any protest, Harry found his arms pinioned by a broad male healer, Harry himself thrashing, biting, clawing at empty air in an attempt to assist his friend.

Through snatches of sight Harry could grasp of his friend Harry saw the healers of St Mongos lift Hermione onto her medical cot. From pockets and pouches Harry sighted the glitter of silver cable. The healers bound Hermione's wrists and ankles to both head and base bars of the cot.

The male healer restraining Harry pinned him forcefully against the wall of the outer corridor. Harry felt the roar of pain sear through him as his arm was forcibly bent backwards in a restraining wrist lock. Harry, outraged roared at the healers in disgust.

"Leave her alone! She's not an animal, she's my friend!" Harry fought with the powerful healer, felling the pain spike through him even greater than before.

"Mr Potter, control yourself," so growled the healer threateningly as Harry slowly ceased in his struggles. The healer took this for acquiescence and slowly loosened the grip on Harry's arm. Slowly the hearer began to speak.

"Mr Potter, I'm so, so sorry, but the woman inside that ward is now very much an animal, she has been tainted by a Vampire."

Harry's heart filled with dread, shock flooded his visage as the healer released him, closing the door of the ward in the young man's face. He, Harry gazed through the view window to see the healers standing over Hermione. It was then that he heard it, a shrill, agonised scream from his friend as Hermione awoke from the assault. Her screams were heart-wrenching filled with agony and pain, Harry saw Hermione struggle against her restraints, face contorted in a mask of agony.

"It's burning! Please! It burns!" Harry pounded his fist against the door of the ward, shaking the portal seal with his protests. A healer turned to face the door, lifted her wand. Suddenly Hermione's screams were muted as the door was imperturbed.

Broken, tears kissing his cheeks, Harry turned away from the sight of Hermione, settling himself into a chair at the side. He lowered his head in his hands before fatigue finally claimed him and he was consumed by haunted sleep.


	2. Seduction of Need

_**Chapter Two – Seduction of Need**_

_Come inside and be afraid__  
__Of this impressive mess I've made__  
__If you take a look now you will find___

_I have thrown away my vice__  
__Done away with paradise__  
__See what's going on inside my mind__  
__Please let me out__  
__Please let me out__  
__Please let me___

_Branded like an animal__  
__I can still feel them burning my mind__  
__I do believe that you made your message clear__  
__I think I am losing my mind__  
__I think I am losing my mind__  
__Deprivating, isolating all that I feel__  
__Leaving me with images I know are not real__  
__Are those words of condemnation that I hear__  
__I think I am losing my mind_

_**Perfect Insanity – Disturbed **_

Dreams roiled on the edge of awaking for young Harry James Potter. Dreams of fears both distant and present, his final vision before his sanctuary of awakening were that of a twisted, ravenous monster, guised within the shroud of his dear friend Hermione.

Sweat beaded his brow, chill and clammy, his hands slowly lowered with the remembrance of his safety. The dream still tormented him, vivid as truth, stark as darkness. Hermione bound, screaming from bonds of searing flame.

"Harry…?" the issue of his name drew Harry away from recollection, turning in his seat to sight his oldest friend: Ronald Weasley, standing opposite him. Ron stood; his ambiance concerned, troubled, in his hand he carried a bloom of summer flowers. "What's wrong?"

Harry shook his head and buried his head in his hands, not wanting to speak, to relieve the sight of his dearest Hermione, malforming to the hideous beast that had attacked him only last night. Ron turned away from him, gazing through the view window into Hermione's single ward.

A cry tore from Ron's lips, shocked, laced with disgust and outrage.

"What in the name of Merlin are they doing to her?" Ron erupted through the door of the ward with a crash of fright and concern.

"Ron no!" Harry cried out, desperate to inform Ron, to tell him of Hermione ailment. Ron, in his haste, had discarded the flowers to the floor, rushing towards Hermione with strong, furious strides.

"Hermione! What's happened? Are you alright?" Ron instantly examined the silver cables of which bound Hermione's wrists and ankles. He roared in indignation, sighting deep, gouging wounds drawn into her flesh, harsh and weeping. Ron reached for the bonds, ready to help her, to free Hermione from such terrible suffering. Hands grasped him tight and with strength desperate, drawing him back.

"What are you doing?" Ron bellowed, turning to see Harry restraining him. "Look at her! She must be in agony!"

"Ron stop! You don't understand she's…"

"Harry…? Ron…?" Hermione's voice issued across their protests, sweet in tone, so impossibly beautiful that it drew away any sense of fear and chaos which filled their hearts, replacing it with a deep, vibrant beauty. Both Ron and Harry turned to face Hermione who lay agonised, bound to her sleeping cot, breaths slow and ragged, visage filled with hurt and longing.

"Ron… my joy… come to me…" Hermione's voice came low, melodious, it's very sound an enchantment. Ron's heart grew wrought with affection, deep, pacey its rhythm filled with vibrant, intense emotions, enthralled, pleasured.

Harry too heard the voice, sweet and so lustrously alluring, he felt a gentle ease rinse over him, unwarily he listened to her voice, seldom could he recall the words used though to him it felt a delight to hear the voice of Hermione.

A great, powerful force rushed up within Harry, a force of will so strong that it beat back the spell of the voice, not without effort, allowing him to place a strong, hesitant hand upon his friends shoulder.

"Don't listen," Harry breathed, his very words an effort. Ron turned, outraged towards Harry, his friends voice sounding harsh and uncouth to the sheer delight that was Hermione's. Ron forced aside Harry's grasp and slowly leaned over Hermione. His fingers, Harry saw, gazing out from a deep, enchanted haze, reached for the silver bonds binding Hermione's wrists.

"No!" Harry cried, reaching for Ron. Un-swift was Harry, his movements sluggish and hesitant. Hermione erupted from the bed in desperate need when Ron had released her. A single, powerful hand Ron about the throat, restricting, choking. Her free hand struck out with inhuman strength, slamming into Harry and forcing him backwards. The silver about her ankles gave a sear of flame, strong and vicious, but Hermione, lusted for blood fought back the pain.

Her visage, once fair and beauteous, now formed that of a demon, fangs bared in hunger. Ron collapsed in her grasp, restriction or shock claiming him. Hermione bared his throat eager to feed.

"Release him!" A booming, commanding voice issued amidst the chaos of the ward. Hermione screamed, silver transfigured through the air, magically bound to her wrists and with a wrench of force, drew her away from Ron and back to her cot,

Ron collapsed to a heap at the side of Hermione's medical bed, the vampire screaming, throat raw with agony. Obscenities and pleading pleasures sounded desperately from Hermione, calling to Harry, Ron, anyone to release her.

Harry, misty eyed, stunned gazed up through his lopsided glasses to see who it was that had rescued them.

Dumbledore towered over the contingency, resonating a vivid, burning aura. His wand thrust towards Hermione, silencing her screams, gazing down towards Ron.

"Is he?" Harry couldn't bring himself to say the word. Dumbledore settled over the fallen Weasley, examining, treating.

"He is breathing," Dumbledore reassured, turning he drew himself near to Harry, offering the young man a wizen hand. Harry took it as Dumbledore drew him back to his feet. Harry glanced towards Hermione; saw the crimson tears seeping down her cheek. He swallowed and turned away.


	3. Black

_**Chapter Three – Black**_

_When everything has turned to black__  
__You don't know where to go__  
__You need something to justify your soul___

_Silences are broken__  
__Confidence is gone__  
__When everything you're holding onto falls_

_All the people selling truths__  
__On every corner now__  
__They wait until fear has knocked you down___

_All the rules are changing now__  
__You're living in sin__  
__Everything around you's caving in___

_And all you hold onto's slipping__  
__Like water through your hands…_

_**Black – Kari Kimmel**_

Gently, with the use of simple magic, so was young Master Weasley lifted from the flank of Hermione's cot, drawn away to safety and settled within a single chair stationed outside the intensive care ward of St Mongos.

Drawing himself away from his friend so did Harry continue to glance through the view window of Hermione's ward, his heart aching, her agony drawing fresh tears of sorrow from his eyes.

Dumbledore continued his examinations of Ronald, checking for aliment or physical damage. Soon he was satisfied, convinced that Ron had suffered no affliction or injury.

"He is suffering from shock," stated the aged wizard. When his words were met with nothing more than stark silence, so did Dumbledore turn to sight Harry. He stood, arched, willowed as if were the bearer of some great, terrible burden.

Rising to his considerable height, Dumbledore crossed the corridor towards Harry, placing an aged hand upon the youth's shoulders.

"Fear does not unman you," so stated Dumbledore, Harry turned towards his wizen headmaster, his intense green eyes meeting bright, vivid blue.

"I'm just… confused." Harry stated his voice breaking with emotion. "She was so happy the night of the Quidditch World Cup, how can things change so suddenly?"

"So is the way of the world." Informed Dumbledore wisely, "Life is fully of storm-clouds it is down to us if we choose to weather those storms or dwell within them."

Dumbledore's grip tightened on Harry's shoulder in a display of strength and courage.

"Miss Granger must understand the affliction she now endures, she must and so must you,"

Harry gazed towards Dumbledore, eyes bright, intense, wrought with emotion. Slowly, Dumbledore pushed open the door to the ward and beckoned Harry to follow.

The silencing charm placed upon Hermione had long since dissolved leaving her free to weep, her breathing came in slow, pained gasps. Harry fought the impulse to race to her side, his heart longed to relieve her suffering, but wisdom stalled the call of his heart.

Every so often Hermione would thrash against her bonds, drawing a scream of agony from her throat, the silver cables burning as hot as fire against her tainted skin. Harry glanced towards Dumbledore who stood silent, observant, watching Hermione, for what Harry knew not.

Her gaze turned gently towards them, her eyes pleaded for liberation. Her mouth moistened with blood, crimson seeping from both her lips and eyes, weeping tears of cerise, a stark reminder to Harry that his dear friend now rested beyond the realms of the living. Herself un-dead, un-living though as much alive as he or others. Her gaze was imploring Harry turned away, heart-ached, fearful.

"Miss Granger," Dumbledore spoke softly, quietly though his voice was laced with warning. "I am going to release you now; if you attack I shall have no choice but to restrain you once more. I possess no love for your pain but please understand, attack and I shall have no choice but to replace your bonds."

"Please… So hungry…" Hermione moaned her words coming in a stark, demonic hiss. "So hungry…"

"Can't you do something, Professor?" Harry pleaded his heart pained to hear such agony, desperation in Hermione, her very agony a pain to him. Dumbledore waved his wand towards the bedside table. A shimmer of light shone. The air transfigured, materialised to a large, ornate glass vial. The vial was ancient; a wizarding bottle filled with some crimson liquid Harry knew to be blood.

Hermione's eyes widened desperately at the sight of the vial. She thrashed terribly, desperately to reach the bottle and its contents.

"Don't tease her!" cried Harry. Dumbledore offered him a light smile before sweeping his wand over the form of the desperate Hermione. Her bonds fell away instantly. Like a starved animal presented with sustenance, Hermione dived for the vial. Upon pulling the stopper free Hermione threw back her head, poring the contents of the vial down her throat. Harry watched, disgusted, enthralled as crimson droplets trickled from her lips, stark against the paleness of her skin.

Hermione moaned, pleasured, pained as the hunger within her was slowly satisfied. Her breasts neither heaved nor fell with her every desperate breath. Slowly she lowering the bottle, her gaze turned towards Harry. Wolfishly Hermione licked her lips, savouring the last droplets of the chill blood.

"Thank you…" Hermione hissed lovingly, almost ardently her grip now relinquished upon the bottle and encircling her wounded wrists. Wordlessly Harry watched as Hermione licked the wounds seared into her flesh. Miraculously the wounds of which she caressed slowly healed with the touch of her tongue. Hermione shivered before her gaze settled upon Harry and Dumbledore once more.

The transformation was staggering. Gone was the demon, the hellish obscenity that had once been Hermione, herself now totally, utterly changed, restored to the Hermione Harry held so fondly.

"What has happened to me?" Hermione's voice cracked, her lower lip trembled with emotion. "I feel things I've never felt, know things I've never known. What is happening to me?"

Dumbledore approached slowly his stride cautious, his gaze reflective. Gently he took both her pale hands in his own ancient, wizen grasp, his thumb softly caressing the crown of her hands. Hermione glanced up at him, crimson tears seeping from her eyes as she implored him for answers.

"I'm afraid, Miss Granger, as I am sure you understand, that you are no longer amongst either human or living kind." Her hand pressed to the un-beating heart beneath her breath. She breathed, tasted the sweet flavour of oxygen though her lungs neither lifted nor functioned, un-needing of this simple, once basic necessity. Her gaze fell into his bright blue depths, her gaze speaking a silent question.

"You are a wise young lady," so stated Dumbledore, "I'm sure I needed not doddle with unnecessary words. I'm certain you understand what you now are?"

"Professor…?" Hermione lowered her head into her hands trembling with tears of sadness. Harry approached, enveloping her with his arms. Hermione settled herself into his embrace, her head resting against his beating, living heart. Harry's touch came to her rich wealth of hair, caressing, breathing deep her scent. It was delectable, a delicious charm, unnatural, un-Hermione, a scent sired as a temptation in her hunt for human prey.

He, Harry did not relinquish his embrace; Hermione slowly began to weep openly.

"What of my life? Am I doomed to a life of darkness? Will I ever recover any sense of normalcy?"

Dumbledore's smile was gentle. Harry wiped away her tears with a gentle caress as she turned towards him. Her heart, un-beating, dead still functioned with the portrayal if emotions, within her at the sight of her best friend so did Hermione feel a wave of affection unlike anything felt before.

"Those infected," Dumbledore stated slowly, seeing the emotions pass between the two friends. Perhaps there was hope?

"Those infected with the Vampiric aliment can maintain normalcy. The sun, unlike within your Muggle folk stories, is not harmful to you. Silver is the only known weakness to a Vampiric soul, but you will live with your hunger for as long as you seek to hold onto life, which can be eternal."

Hermione gasped at the aged wizards words.

"I am doomed to live forever?" Hermione's words were agonised, fearful, pained. "I am doomed to outlive all of my friends, family; loved ones? I am eternal?"

"This is the curse you face," so informed Dumbledore. Harry's arms re-enveloped Hermione. Harry could feel the agony welling from deep within her. His heart reached for hers, desperate to help, to console, to understand. Hermione settled herself, glanced up, a silent request past between she and those gathered. Slowly, both Harry and Dumbledore stood, leaving her alone with her thoughts.


	4. The Way I Am

_**Chapter Four – The Way I Am**_

_Everywhere I look I see disease__  
__Seems like the world was taken from me__  
__Time seems to be tick tick ticking away__  
__Forgive me for all, all the things I say___

_Will you leave me there__  
__The way I am__  
__Interpretations of the day__  
__The way I am__  
__Delivered from the grey_

_**The Way I Am – Fozzy**_

Authors Note – Inspired by Man of Constant Sorrow

It took an intense breath and many moments of silent thought before Harry could fully understand the storm of emotions raging through him. Drawing a seat along the hall, the air resounding with an ominous rake, steel meeting ceramic, Harry drew up beside his oldest friend.

Ronald, deathly pale, wan, lifted his blue eyes, themselves shaded, haunted, as he turned to face Dumbledore. Harry beside him settled himself into a strong, supportive air folding a single arm across Ron's lithe frame.

Ron physically trembled, his teeth sinking into the knuckle of his fist as he fought of demons stemmed from his conflict with the vampiric Hermione.

"I… I…." Ron stammered, his words almost rolling over each other as he sort to make sense of Hermione affliction. Defeated, Ron lowered his head into his hands, Harry could hear, feel sobs emitting from his friend. Tears Harry himself had wept for their friend.

"Ron…" Harry said gently, reaching forth to lightly squeeze his friend's shoulder. "She was desperate. They hadn't satisfied her hunger in more than three days. She didn't mean to hurt you or me."

"This is true," so continued Albus Dumbledore, speaking in reassurance to young Ronald. "Vampires are misunderstood creatures. They, like many of their kind, are perfectly sociable if their hunger is satisfied. Only with the call of the hunger shall they lapse unto their animalistic instincts."

"So she…? She didn't mean to attack us?" so questioned Ron, Dumbledore shook his head gently, slowly he continued.

"A vampire suffering from a hunger the extent of which Miss Granger was suffering is enough to make her attack even her most beloved of friends of family."

"I need to talk to her!" Ron stated stridently standing to his feet. Harry had never seen Ron so determined, his very will set on his questions he had for Hermione. Dumbledore stepped aside allowing Ronald to enter Hermione's ward.

Harry's gaze settled upon the swinging door as it rocked back and forth, slowly drawing to a close, sealing Hermione in with Ron. His heart ached; Dumbledore glanced towards Harry, his eyes bright with care and wisdom.

"Matters of the heart are a fickle thing," Dumbledore breathed gently his visage reflective. Harry glanced up towards his aged professor, quiet, thoughtful, hoping for some words which could help ease the agony he felt within.

"Love, is the most powerful form of magic within our world, it is both powerful and painful. Your heart will need to discover which it is for you."

"I'm not in love," so stated Harry, his gaze failing to meet that of his professors. Dumbledore smiled behind his wealth of silver beard.

"I mean," Harry continued shakily, "I love Hermione as a friend, a sister almost," Harry's voice rended, his gaze still refusing to meet Dumbledore's.

"Harry…" Dumbledore stalled in his words, pausing to gaze deep at his young student. In all his wisdom Dumbledore kept his silence. Reflective, Dumbledore took his leave stepping away from Harry and venturing back down the corridor. Harry sighed, placing his head in his hands, he trembled. Harry swallowed; drawing breath into his lungs he sighed and stepped towards the view window of Hermione's chamber.

His heart rent at the sight which greeted him. Ron stood in Hermione's embrace, sweet and tender. Ron glanced up, seemingly sensing that they were being watched. He smiled and gave Harry the thumbs up. Harry smiled back though his smile was not that of happiness, more a forced grimace of acceptance. He drew away before the tears of agony could fall.

He followed Dumbledore in his step, proceeding to the exit of St Mongos, seeking shelter, and most of all, solitude.

…

The hunger grew deep within Hermione the more the healers of St Mongos denied her sustenance. Her pride refused her to beg, herself, despite her affliction, still a strong, proud young woman.

Every time she would politely ask for some sense of relief, the healers would hiss and demand her compliance under the threat of silver. Hermione began to relate to the many werewolves that had sort treatment from this hospital. Were they as hated as she was for an illness she neither birthed nor wished for?

Ron continued to visit almost daily. But it was not he of whom she longed to see. Harry had been distant since the moment Dumbledore had informed them of her disease, so shaken was Hermione by the healers prejudice that she almost believed Harry to be amongst the same.

In her heart Hermione knew this not to be so, Harry was her friend, they were close, surely he wouldn't…

On the fourth day of her abating Hermione's temper was strident and fiery. She had informed Ronald to stay away, almost screaming for him to leave her alone. She did not want to risk her friend's safety again at her hands.

The hunger grew intense though the healers of St Mongos continued to ignore her pleas and screams. She raked at the walls with clawed fingers, the outrage of her imprisonment almost unbearable. But, the sheer extent of the healers scorn for her drew to an eve at her lowest of moments.

The hunger was all consuming, herself so desperate that the healers had bound the door to her ward with silver and spells. She stood at the window, the sun clouded by overcast, the grey almost black with the intensity of her enhanced vision. She trembled, her hands clasp tight to her breast, body caught in a tremor of need.

Desperate, needy, it took every ounce of will Hermione possessed not to attack when her door was opened. She turned, crimson tears seeping down her cheek, mouth open fangs bared in a hiss of outrage as a number of healers, mature and youthful entered her chamber.

"Please…" Hermione pleaded, her voice coming in deep, pained gasps. "Please… let me feed…"

"You see class," so boomed a broad, heavyset witch brandishing her wand in a flaying arch. "How the vampire attempts to charm us with sympathy to offer our throats."

Hermione's eyes drifted from witch and wizard. Herself uneasy, her heart, unbeating, filled with dread.

"What is this?" so questioned Hermione as around her the young wizard and witches nodded at the matrons words. "What's going on here?"

"Silence!" the matron witch thrust her wand towards Hermione, followed by a number of other older healers. The hunger stalled her reactions, herself weak with need. Stunning spells caught her full in the chest, forcing her back towards the window with the force of the multiple spells. Hermione's head collided with the glass. A great crack opened in the reinforced glass as she collapsed in a heap to the chill, tiled floor.

Forcefully the healers pulled her to her feet, bound her wrists and ankles with silver wire. Hermione's consciousness returned faster than a living human, Hermione screamed in agony at the presence of the silver.

"Gag it, we need not that nuisance. Be wary of her fangs." Hermione choked as a cloth gag was forced into her mouth, straggling her cries offering her only deep gargles of agony and indignation. Her eyes sort the matron; sort some sense of justice, to understanding as to what was happening to her.

Forcefully her simple cotton gown was torn from her form, exhibiting her body to all that observed her.

"See the swell of the breasts class? The narrowness of the waist?" The matron stated exhibiting Hermione's body like a freak in an ancient sideshow. "This is classic signs of the temptress. Men are attracted to the sheer allure of the vampire, united with their intoxicating scent which lures in prey. This is why so many men fall victim to female vampires. They possess not the will, nor the foresight to stall the draw of their loins."

A chuckle followed these words from many of the woman healers. Tears of crimson seeped down Hermione's cheeks at the sheer humiliation of her exhibition.

"Observe the sexual allure of a vampire, their sex," Hermione squealed in displeasure as the matron inserted two fingers roughly into her sex "Many fictional stories exist that Vampires produce no bodily fluid. This has stated is a myth. A female, as we shall see,"

The matron began to thrust her fingers savagely into Hermione's sex. She groaned pained, feeling no pleasure from the stimulation. Often Hermione had pleasured herself, drawing herself to the pinnacle, but that had always been tender, caring. This was forced, vicious, uncaring.

Hermione squealed weakly within the gag as the matron forcefully stopped drawing her fingers out of Hermione. Her digits were wet with vaginal fluid, which glistened like silver on the porky matrons fingers.

"As you see, a vampire is perfectly capable of producing bodily fluid. Though this is more potent than any human fluid; a vampiric male is said to be a thousand times more fertile than even the most lust strewn human stud."

"What are you doing?" A strident roar of outrage issued amidst the chamber. Matron and students turned to sight Harry Potter standing framed in the doorway of the ward. Outrage shone bright in his eyes, his wand held tight in his grasp.

"This is an official class of the healers of St Mongos, Mr Potter. You have no right to interfere." so stated the matron, brisk, formal. Harry growled in rage as he lifted his wand. An aura of power resonated around the young man, deep, vivid, intense. The healers grew fearful. His words issued low, ominous.

"Get… out…!" the matron and the other healers quailed before him. In haste they fled from the chamber, leaving Hermione tied and gaged, nude before her friend.

Harry transfigured a blanket for Hermione, which he placed about her form. She gazed at him, thankful, pleading as slowly Harry released her from her bonds. Hermione moaned as the gag was released. Harry drew her into his arms Hermione's own embrace thankful, grateful, loving.

"Hermione…?" Harry said gently feeling her deep agony deep within her. "Are you hungry?"

"Yes…" so moaned Hermione herself caught in tremors of indignation. Slowly, with Harry's gentle caresses, so did she come to nuzzle against him, her tongue softly lapping against his throat. Harry shivered at the sheer intimacy of her caress. Forced himself to remember, she was acting on instinct, this was nothing personal, emotional or otherwise.

"Feed," Harry said gently, offering his throat to her. Hermione gasped, drew back, gazed deep into his eyes. Harry could see the hunger deep within her beautiful brown depths, his heart beat franticly. He nodded. Hermione offered him a light, thankful smile. She bore her fangs, sunk them deep into Harry's throat and began to feed.


	5. Dark Light

_**Chapter Five – Dark Light**_

_Shivers run through the spine__  
__Of hope as she cries__  
__The poisoned tears of a life denied__  
__In the raven-black night__  
__Holding hands with___

_Dark light__  
__Come shine in her lost heart tonight__  
__And blind__  
__All fears that haunt her with__  
__Your smile__  
__Dark Light_

_**Dark Light – H.I.M**_

Hermione's fangs passed through skin into Harry's artery without even the slightest pain. Harry gasped, his heart enthralled at the sudden emotions surging through him. His heart began to race, forcing more blood through his veins, offering more of the rich fluid she so craved.

Harry gasped, a vibrant, erotic pleasure began to sear through him, a pleasure he attributed to self-pleasure but with the intensity he believed he would only experience with the art of love making.

He gasped, eyes closing, rolling with the sheer thrall of the pleasure, Hermione's hand came to rest upon his heart, racy, pounding, vivacious. Trickles of blood seeped down his throat, his shoulder, seeping gently, heated.

Hermione's fingers came to the hem of his Tee, lifted, caressed emergent muscle, rich and erotic in her touch. Her mind sort his instantly, offered words of reassurance, friendship and love.

She fed deep, drawing life renewed into her body. The blood was delicious, filled with youth and life, joy and passion, she felt life restore to her body, so long since lost to her. Her skin prickled with sensitivity, felt warmth return to her. Such feelings were such a pleasure that she began to drown in the emotions, feelings.

She drank beyond, seeking to draw Harry deep into herself, to fuse with him totally and utterly, to unite her body, heart and soul with his. Only the slowing beat of his heart forced her into resistance.

He began to fade. The beat of his heart grew slow, pleasure dampened until feeling became almost a labour. He sort not to stall her feeding, wished, tried, fought to feel the intensity of the feelings he had first felt. But the edge of oblivion drew closer, he teetered, shook Hermione gluttonous in her hunger.

Hermione, drew away with a roar of satisfaction, her lips moist with his sweet, heated blood. Her tongue slowly lapped at the blood she had spilt, her caress healing the puncher marks she had pierced into his skin. Her lips met his in a kiss of vibrant passion and ardent need. The kiss was horrific, blood tainting the innocents; emotions raw and fruitful enriched the eroticism. Harry panted, weak, needing, drained before slowly Hermione drew back, gazed deep into his eyes with a look of longing. Her visage formed that of horror as slowly Harry collapsed in her arms. Willowed, weakened, drained beyond the edge. Hermione screamed for help, her cries the last thing he heard before slipping into total, utter darkness.

…

Dreams of passion, dreams of desire seared through Harry's consciousness. Hermione nude, lips as that of heated blood, arms open to accept him in her embrace. He rushed towards her his movements restrained, restraints of guilt binding him, keeping him from her. She gazed towards him, offered him a light gentle kiss before dissolving into a veil of intense light.

Feeling flooded him, emotions passionate filled his being as slowly he awoke within a simple bed chamber he recognised but could not place.

"Where…?" The room was stark orange, posters and flyers adorned the walls of Quidditch players.

Arms enveloped him, sweet, endearing arms. He felt kisses caress his face as he turned, startled to see a mane of curls obscuring his vision.

"Harry… Harry! I'm so sorry… Harry please… forgive me…"

"Hermione…?" Harry blinked as his friend drew back her skin ghostly pale, her eyes vivid, beautiful. She smiled, even as a vampire Harry could see she had failed to find sleep during his slumber, her eyes lightly shadowed with fatigue. It was a slumber, he remembered, she had enforced upon him.

"Harry…" Hermione cooed gently, gazing deep into his intense green eyes. "I'm so sorry, I lost control, I've never felt emotions like that before."

Harry's visage brightened with an intense flush as he remembered the emotions Hermione's feeding had drawn within him.

"What did you feel?" If it were possible Harry was sure the vampire before him grew bright with flush.

"Things… naughty things …" Her tone was innocent, sweet; Harry offered her a light smile, reaching out to take her shoulders in his grip.

"I understand, believe me, I do." Hermione smiled before lowering her lips to his. Their kiss was fleeting, swift, void of the passion they each shared. Their kiss disturbed by the strident bang of the door, forced open by an exuberant Ron.

He started, blinked as Hermione drew abruptly away from Harry. Hermione offered Ron a light smile which he accepted in friendship.

"You woke up!" Ron cheered brightly striding over and grasping Harry's hand in a sibling manner. "Fred and George were beginning to take odds on whether you'd ever wake up."

"How long have I been… you know?" Harry questioned of Ron and Hermione. Together both Ron and Hermione glanced at each other. Harry caught their gaze, swift, fleeting, concerned.

"Err… Long enough for the booklists to come," Ron informed, Harry started in surprise.

"You'd best go easier on him, Hermione," Ron teased, Hermione licked her lips wolfishly, offering Harry a playful wink. Harry sniggered darkly as he slowly sat up on his bed.

Harry requested his booklist, which Ron rushed away to retrieve. Harry gazed gently at Hermione who sat quiet, reflective.

"Are you…? Did you…?" Hermione squealed in happiness as she smiled brightly at him.

"Yes Harry! I'm allowed back to school." Harry's heart leapt as he rushed forward to embrace Hermione. They sat, enveloped in each-other's arms happiness awash over them at the thought that they would not be separated.

They gazed deep at each other, lips slowly drawing close, so delightfully close. Ron burst back into the room to a glower of displeasure from each of his best friends.


	6. Think of Me

_**Chapter Six – Think of Me**_

_Think of me__  
__think of me fondly,__  
__when we've said__  
__goodbye.__  
__Remember me__  
__once in a while __  
__please promise me__  
__you'll try.___

_When you find__  
__that, once__again, you long__  
__to take your heart back__  
__and be free __  
__if you ever find a moment,__  
__spare a thought__for me ..._

_**Think of Me – Sarah Brightman**_

Hermione paused, froze tight amidst the bustle of Diagon Alley. The sun was a vivid, heated gold, shining down its rays to dance across the many colours of the district. Harry's hand threaded into hers, squeezed gently. Her eyes sort his, felt his understanding, knew the presence of so much prey was a temptation to her soul.

"You ok?" Harry whispered gently so as not to draw to much attention to themselves, turning with her to glance into a nearby store window.

"I… I feel like an animal," Hermione scolded, sounding totally disgusted with herself. Harry offered her a gentle caress, his hand finding her waist.

"Do you need to…" his voice trailed off, not wanting any passer to hear him speak of Hermione's ailment. She shook her head determinedly.

"No, I need to control this," Harry offered her a light, reassuring smile before together the turned and proceeded to seek their company.

They found the Weasley's stationed at Gringotts, the towering white marble edifice, the heart of all financial matters within the wizarding world of Britain.

Griphook greeted Harry and the Weasley's warmly, gesturing to the carts which connected the levels to the subterranean vaults.

Winding down at an incredible speed the cart ricked and rocked, stalling before Harry's vault. Harry attempted to shield his innumerable wealth from The Weasley's, not out of any sense of greed, more shame on himself, knowing he was in possession of so much gold while the Weasley's struggled upon the very edge of the bread line.

When at last both he and the Weasley's had gathered what they needed so did they split into differing groups, agreed to meet back at the drinking house which guarded the alley.

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny all ventured in the opposite direction to their elders, seeking the pleasure of the leisure stores. Harry was drawn privately to a simple store while the others ventured to their favourite sections of the district. Hermione was drawn to Flourish and Blotts Diagon Alley's main source of literature. Ron cursed low and sarcastic under his breath at Hermione's eagerness.

"I bet you've read this whole shop," Ron drawled acerbically towards Hermione. She turned, not with scorn but with a mocking smile.

"Well, now I am immortal maybe I will," joining them Harry choked on a snigger at Ron gazed wide-eyed towards Hermione.

"An eternity of reading, better you than me, I'm off you coming Harry, Gin?"

Ginny chuckled and ventured towards her brother. Harry gazed from Ron to Hermione, a look of relish and pleasure, also loneliness found deep in her gaze. Harry shook his head.

"I'll stick with Hermione, you escape while you can," Ron snorted and hastened away, Ginny following in his train as together they headed in the direction of Quality Quidditch Supplies.

Hermione turned to face Harry, a quizzical look in her eyes.

"You could have escaped with them, I can be left alone," Harry smiled roguishly.

"And miss out on your company? Also what's the point in looking at broomsticks? I've already got the best model."

Hermione rolled her eyes sardonically then clutched at Harry's arm, drawing him into her favourite shop. The air was dusty, filled with the scent of ancient parchment. The manager waved happily towards Hermione who responded in kind.

"Regular customer?" Harry teased lightly, winding his arm about Hermione's waist. Hermione smiled brightly before drawing herself away from Harry and venturing towards a roller ladder. She pulled the ladder towards Harry with a rush of rollers, stopping some inches away from him.

"I've seen the book I'm after around here somewhere," Harry raised his eyebrows, knowing that Mrs Weasley was going to buy their school books later in the day. Hermione began to climb the ladder; Harry instinctively went to the base, held it securely as Hermione continued to climb. Hermione wasn't in anyway clumsy, but little precautions should be taken when ones friend decides to climb the height of a towering bookcase. Hermione pulled a large, leather bound tomb free from the case. She wobbled Harry supposed from the weight of it, but somehow he believed it more from the books sheer awkwardness, seeing with the ease of which Hermione supported the book . She began to descend the ladder, the large book held casually in her hand.

Harry took the book from her when she was near, placing the tome down on the floor before stepping back to the base of the ladder. Fortune was paid for such precautions as, on the third most rung, Hermione slipped from the ladder and fell.

Hoisting her into his arms with the grace of the seeker, Harry whirled Hermione around with the momentum of her fall, drawing her dear to him in a tight embrace.

Hermione, flustered, heated clutched at Harry, grip strong, almost painful with her newly acquired strength. Harry winced, Hermione gasped.

"Oh Harry… I'm so sorry," Hermione relinquished her grip on him, Harry felt his arms tingle, numb from her grip.

"Remind me never to provoke you," Harry mused, drawing a hearty giggle from Hermione. A light rapping sounded on the window. Together they turned to see Ron glancing through the window, two large ice creams in his hands, his visage caught between a grimace and a smile. Hermione scooped up the heavy tome, gave the manager the price and proceeded towards the exit, Harry following in her train.

"You two looked cosy," Harry frowned at Ron's tone of voice; it sounded almost hurt, wounded. Hermione smiled, then gazed sardonically at her friend as he offered her the proffered ice cream.

"Ron, are you taking the micky?" Ron blinked, affronted.

"I buy you an ice cream and I get insulted, you're a gem Hermione," Hermione winced at the lash of his tongue.

"I didn't mean it like that…" So reassured Hermione, "It's just I… I can't eat food or treats," Ron's visage flushed with embarrassment.

"Sorry…" he mumbled under his breath, so low it was almost silent. Together the company of friends, Ron now indulgent in two large ice creams, ventured towards the Leaky Cauldron. Whilst sat at the edge of the table Hermione quietly skimmed through her tome. Harry had just caught sight of the title before Hermione opened it, entitled: Vampire Traits – Strengths and Weaknesses. Ron grimaced in disgust at the sheer size of the book knowing that, for him, even to reach the core of the text would take him more than a significant lifetime. He shook his head exasperatedly and, in grabbing a handful of toast from the stack in the centre.

The Weasley's and Harry engaged in joyful banter, Hermione sat in silence enjoying her book. Finally Harry drew back his chair and went to sit beside Hermione.

"Learn anything new?" Harry questioned, still filled with remembrance of how Hermione had come by this book. His arm still ached from her grip, sore but unthreatening.

"Lots," Hermione mused but did not elaborate. Harry's urged her to continue.

"Well… Vampires possess the ability to shape shift,"

"What the same as an Animagus?" questioned Harry.

"Not really… A vampire possess the power to shape shift into a number of forms: Animals, insects, even mist,"

"That could be useful," stated Harry, Hermione meanwhile grew haunted with thought.

"The problem is transformations are telling, the less solid the shape a vampire undertakes the more influential it is on the body. Apparently it affects the hunger and I will need more blood the more complex the transformation."

"So… if you were to transform into mist you will need to feed straight after?"

"I believe so," Hermione stated with dejection. "The hunger could be fierce I may hurt someone,"

"I'm sure you won't," so reassured Harry, "Did you learn anything else?"

Hermione swallowed.

"Well, I can die," Harry drew himself upright, his gaze suddenly fearful.

"How? I thought vampires were… you know? Forever."

Hermione made an ominous slashing gesture across her throat; Harry took it to mean one thing: Decapitation.

"I'll learn more the more I study I'm sure," Hermione stated. Harry's hands found hers and slowly closed the book with a low _thud_.

"Enough study, you'll be here all day if I let you. Come I have something I want to show you."

"Really? What?" Hermione smiled gently, Harry took her hand, slowly drawing her to her feet. Hands interweaving Harry lead Hermione out into the pubs beer garden. The sheer intensity of the colours was startling for Hermione as she winced at the rays of the summer sun. Harry enveloped her in his embrace, light, gentle, loving, before drawing from his pocket a small jewellery box.

Hermione gasped, the body was rich velvet, Wizard wrought and expensive.

"To keep you safe," Harry breathed handing the box to Hermione. She took the box, breathing deep, gently; Hermione opened the box to unveil a rich golden chain, festooned with an onyx Heartagram. Hermione gasped, her heart touched as slowly Harry took the necklace and placed it around her neck. The symbol fell just over her heart, Hermione was sure she felt the presence of magic in the decoration.

She touched the item gently and smiled.

"It's beautiful but I can't see it, I… I no longer cast a reflection." Harry smiled his arms slowly lifting to her shoulders. His touch was sweet, caring, loving, his eyes glinting vividly in the sunlight.

"Think of me when you wear it," Harry said gently, tears of crimson flecked Hermione's eyes as slowly she drew herself towards him, they embraced dearly, Hermione's lips coming to softly caress his cheek in a tender kiss.

They stood, surrounded by nature, hearts a-lift with friendship and passion. The eyes of an observer gazed down upon them from the top most window.


	7. Forming The Chalice

_**Chapter Seven – Forming the Chalice**_

_This all you kept inside_

_Once you gage it all_

_Sorrow and Despair_

_Took me where I belong_

_She was all I create_

_She was all I craved_

_Sorrow and Despair_

_Made me feel this way_

_**Sorrowsong – Charon**_

"Shh…" Hermione cooed gently, speaking in a soft, comforting voice. Her fingers ran tenderly amidst the soft, close cropped locks of her friend Ronald. Gently her tongue lapped at the wounds within his throat, caused by her fangs and the urgency of her feeding. Ron quivered, his legs unsteady, the sheer loss of blood a shock to his bodily system.

Hermione steadied him, closely holding onto Ron as he struggled to find his feet. Smiling gently Hermione placed a chaste kiss upon his cheek, wrought with gratitude and friendship.

"Thank you," Hermione breathed as slowly she relinquished her grip upon Ron. Now stable, his body still caught in minor convulsions of both emotional fear and vibrant longing. Ron took her hand; softly he caressed the crown of her hand, enveloping hers singly in both his. Ron's eyes grew haunted, shadowed by the sheer onrush of feelings he had experienced in his first placate of Hermione's hunger.

For many a day at the Burrow Harry had been the one to abate Hermione's hunger, but now the sheer loss of blood was beginning to show signs of strain upon his body. It was then that Ronald had volunteered; he had never expected his first abatement to be as emotionally thunderous as this.

Daring filled him; slowly he brought Hermione's once chill hand to his lips which he caressed with a gentle kiss. Hermione frowned slightly at his display of affection, slowly drawing her hand away to gaze meaningfully at her friend.

"Mione?" Ron breathed, his tone laced with affection. "What do you feel when you feed from me?"

Visibly Hermione swallowed. Her face grew reflective, hesitant, distant. As she had with Harry, Hermione had felt the onrush of emotions from Ron, which had been caused by her feeding. Ron harboured a passion for her, emotionally he sort her hand, but it was emotions she did not return.

Hermione had felt emotions, primal, carnal, heated with a fire of passion, raw and splendid, but this wasn't from Ron, her heart belonged to another, she only hoped she did not lose Ron's friendship. She could not lie to him but also the pain of knowing how deeply her rejection would hurt him ached at her heart. To her, the emotions she felt for Ron were simple, friendly, loving in an almost sibling affection.

Ron slowly drew in close to her, attempting a kiss, she moved away gently, putting distance between them.

"Ron don't…" Hermione said softly though her words were traced with a hint of warning. "I don't want this,"

The dejection she saw in Ron's eyes was heart-wrenching, everything and more of what she had expected. Tears welled in Ron's eyes as he stood before her.

"But Hermione…?" Ron's voice cracked like a scolded child, he reached for her hand once more. "Surely you felt my emotions? Surely you understand that I lo-"

"Ron don't!" Hermione hissed hoping not to damage his feelings any greater, but also not wanting him to lose himself within these same emotions.

"I… feel your emotions and I'm sorry, but I cannot return those feelings. For me, I feel everything I've always felt for you," Hermione stalled, saw the hope deepen in his eyes. Slowly she took Ron's hand in hers. She cupped it gently, caressed his palm with her fingertips.

"Ron, I feel friendship, affection, we're like siblings," Ron's heart visibly collapsed into a tarn of sorrow.

"Hermione… I-"

"Shh…" Hermione cooed placing her fingers over his lips to silence his words. "Do not chase me; you will torture yourself if you do. My heart is not yours to win."

Tears seeped down Ron's cheeks, Hermione's heart rended at his agony, so deep. So destructive could be the truth. Tenderly Hermione took Ron into her embrace, felt his face nestle into her neck as slowly she began to rock him, as gently as a sister would a grieving brother, Ron slowly breathed, broken, willowed, he drew back and nodded.

…

Harry sat at the dining table of The Burrow, waiting for his friends, knowing that they would join him after the abating of Hermione hunger. Across from him sat Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts, awaiting audience with Hermione.

Harry heard the soft sound of footfalls coming from the stairs. Wheeling in his chair Harry caught a glance of Hermione and Ron. Slowly they walked together, hand in hand, tenderly, affectionately. Ron drew Hermione into a deep, endearing embrace, Harry turned forcefully away, his heart aching.

Dumbledore glanced towards Harry through the steeple of his fingers, his eyebrows slowly lifting, almost as if in curiosity. Ron stepped by Harry, placing a hand on the back of his chair almost in affection, almost as if to ease the ache Harry felt within his heart. Hermione past him, her touch lingered upon his shoulders as he felt her cross. Harry sighed at her touch, once more Dumbledore's eyes glinted.

Finally, Hermione took her seat between Harry and Ron, her pale skin tinted at the touch of life flowing through her veins. Harry knew she had just eaten; saw by the rouge of her cheeks and the settlement of her once stark veins. Harry's heart was ablaze with questions, had Ron felt the same emotions as he when she supped from him?

Dumbledore gazed from youth to youth, his manor formal, wise; slowly he addressed Hermione, the others in turn.

"Miss Granger, as I'm sure you are aware, you have been allowed to continue your magical education at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. This presents staff, students, and yourself with a rather stiff dilemma."

Hermione's visage flooded with dread. Desperately Hermione clasped her hands together almost as if in prayer, Harry lightly touched her shoulder, it was warm. Hermione's hand found his, Harry softly squeezed, offering strength, support. Dumbledore smiled and offered her the vaguest shadow of a wink.

"As I have been informed," Dumbledore continued, "You found the interaction with, shall we say? Living folk, a difficulty when you ventured into Diagon Alley week before last?"

"Yes…" Hermione's voice broke, she lightly touched Harry's hand, her voice grew stronger. "Yes, but I didn't hurt anyone, I had support from Harry and the Weasley family,"

"This has been understood, but also we must take into consideration your hunger. As one stricken with the vampiric ailment, if your hunger is not satisfied you are a potential risk. We seek to avoid such a _messy_ complication."

Tears of crimson welled in Hermione's eyes. She began to sob; both Harry and Ron drew in closer to her offering her their strength.

"Can't me and Harry satisfy her hunger? We've been doing that almost daily here," so questioned Ron, Dumbledore's eyebrows raised, curiously.

"If such is the wish of each of you, such an arrangement can be made, but we shall need to write up a contract stating that you do not hold Hogwarts, school of staff, responsible if this agreement breaks."

"It won't break!" Harry promised gripping Hermione's hand tight. "I would lay down my life to keep you safe, Hermione."

"Oh, Harry," Hermione wept openly, throwing her arms about her friend in a deep, endearing embrace. Ron stood up, stood behind his two friends and placed both his hands on each of them.

"Draw up the contract, professor, we won't hesitate to sign," Dumbledore gazed at each of them, saw the true connection, the true friendship they shared, he waved his hand across the table and a large piece of parchment appeared, united with an ink bottle and quill.

"Now I must say, you do this not out of force, that you each agree to sustain Hermione's hunger at your own risk?"

"Hermione's not a risk," stated Harry firmly, he signed the contract without even noticing the writing upon it. Ron followed in haste but Hermione lifted the parchment contract and read through.

"Iron supplements? Blood replenishing potions? Protein brews? What is this?" Dumbledore addressed her lightly.

"These boys run the risks of becoming extremely sick at their constant blood lose. Even if you yourself Miss Granger do not kill them the sheer amount of blood lost daily could. I seek the alternative."

"Harry, Ron," Hermione said gently, turning to each of them in sorrow.

"You would do this, for me?" Hermione voice cracked with emotion.

"This and more," so pledged each of her friends, Hermione smiled and slowly signed the contract.

Dumbledore drew his chair back, standing, the parchment contract dissolving into a ray of glitter. He left the three of them together, friends united, the Golden Trio.


	8. Dreams and Comfort

_**Chapter Eight – Dreams and Comfort**_

_If I look back and he's screaming__  
__I'd left him dreaming, a dangerous feat__  
__Well I'll run back and shake him tightly__  
__And scream "if they want him oh they're gonna have to fight me"__  
__Oh fight me_

_Night Terror – __Laura Marling_

Dreams roiled within the slumbering depths for the vampiric Hermione. Night-terrors of her final moments of living, the memory was still as fresh and potent as it was the day of her turning. A trauma, forced to endure amidst the dream wrought night, forced to remember even during mornings waking hours. No escape, no peace, only deep, intense suffering.

"_You have a simple choice, little one," so hissed the vampire, his grasp still held tight to her throat. He had drained Hermione to the edge, forced her into weakened compliance, her only hope of rescue lost amidst the chaos of the campsite._

_She felt it slowly, the drip, drip, drop of tears touching her lips. Alien it was to any water or cordial she had ever experienced: Chill, wrought with iron, blood! Desperately Hermione drew upon the blood, felt her mouth touch a horrific wound. She supped deep, fraught with fear, her only thoughts the thought of life, holding onto what line she was offered, natures natural fear of death fuelling her anxiety. But slowly the darkness enveloped her to the call of her name through the darkness. _

Hermione awoke with a scream, a muffled, strangled cry of terror. Through the darkness, the faint rays of the moon as brilliant as mid-morning sunshine, so did Hermione glance down at her hands. They were bone white, fuelled by a number of vivid, azure arteries, filled with lifeblood supped from her friend, stark against the sheer, unnatural paleness of her flesh.

Hermione swallowed. Turning in her bed so did the Vampire see her friend Ginny lost in quiet slumber, unknowing of Hermione's fears or terrors.

Hermione stepped from her bed, wrapping a light shawl about her thin nightdress. The habit was engrained more than needed, sired from a need not to lose the warmth she now felt from her feeding. This was the most terrible of symptoms sired from her ailment: the constant chill; only stalled with every sup. This single, terrible symptom drove deeper the dagger more than any other, reminded her constantly that she was no longer amongst the living.

Hermione drew in a deep, unnecessary breath, this again more of a comfort than a need; it was difficult understanding that she no longer needed this once vital necessity. She had experienced panic attacks, sensations of suffocation, all eased by Harry and Ron as she struggled to understand her body and her new abilities.

Upon making her way to the Weasley's sitting area, Hermione started in surprise to find Harry, she knew by his scent, curled up lightly in a corner of the sofa, enveloped by a thick, warm blanket.

"Harry?" Hermione breathed, concerned. Her young friend turned, offered her a light, gentle smile.

"Hermione? Are you ok? What's wrong?"

"Nightmare," Hermione stated gently, Harry offered her a light smile.

"I can understand," welcomingly Harry tossed aside the blanket which enveloped him offering Hermione its comfort. In the darkness of the sitting room Harry couldn't see the light rouge touch the cheek of his friend as slowly she nestled up to him. Harry enveloped her with his blanket, his hands coming to rest intimately upon her waist. Hermione drew his arms about her, caressed his strength with a tender touch as softly they lay together.

For many a moment each were lost in each-others embrace, lost to the feel of one another: demonic beauty, human tenderness. Hermione felt Harry breath deep her scent, felt a sudden, irrational fear. Hermione knew from her study of her ailment that her scent was a rich Pheromone designed for the sole purpose of alluring human prey. The thought of Harry intoxicated for her, not for her heart, but for her being disturbed her. She turned to glance back at Harry, eyes wrought with emotion.

"Please, don't do that?" Hermione breathed gently, Harry swallowed, startled.

"Do what?" Harry questioned, Hermione gazed at him, her gaze almost coy.

"Breathe my scent, it is dangerous," so warned Hermione, Harry smiled.

"Only to my heart," through the faint moonshine Harry was sure he saw colour enter Hermione's cheeks.

"Please Harry… just don't. I do not want you falling for my scent?" to her surprise Harry looked surprised, almost hurt.

"Would you rather Ron fall for you, scent or otherwise?" Hermione shook her head, frustration paramount.

"No Harry, no! I don't harbour any affection other than friendship for Ron." Hermione continued almost desperately,

"I've felt your emotions when I feed from you, as I'm sure you've felt mine. I feel for you but I don't want you feeling for an idea of me. I'm a monster Harry, not the girl I once-."

Hermione started, Harry's fingers gently pressed against her lips, ceasing her protests, her confession. Gently Harry placed a chaste kiss upon her brow.

"Never refer to yourself as a monster." Harry stated firmly, "I've never thought that of you, even with your ailment. You are still the woman I care for, my friend, my passion.

Tears of crimson flecked Hermione's eyes. Slowly, gently, tender in their touch, so did they each draw together uniting in a deep, ardent kiss. Together, falling into the passion found for each other, so did their kiss grow deeper, filling with a vibrant, emotive desire.


	9. Vision of Love

_**Chapter Nine – Vision of Love**_

_Treated me kind__  
__Sweet destiny__  
__Carried me through desperation__  
__To the one that was waiting for me__  
__It took so long__  
__Still I believed__  
__Somehow the one that I needed__  
__Would find me eventually_

_**Vision of Love – Mariah Carey **_

The ambiance within the Burrow, once so fuelled with summer holiday merriment grew deep, gloomy and grim, emanating from many of the Weasley youth at the prospect of returning once more to their edifice of education.

Harry Potter, in the meantime, awoke from a pleasured and un-tormented sleep, awaking to a radiant vision which drew upon his visage a sweet, tender smile. Hermione lay next to him, caught within the boundaries of sleep, her right arm, absently curled about his form, their legs interweaving, Harry's own arms enveloped about her dear.

She looked so perfect, skin of clear, pale smoothness, her wealth of hair askew, chestnut tresses glinting with highlights of soft summer sun. These subtle traits, hair of chaotic silken curls, skin of sweet, satin smoothness, each only served to enhance her charm. It was somewhat uncanny the sight of her gentle breathing though her chest neither heaved nor fell. Her soft breath whispered against his cheek, visage so wrought with beauty that she appeared nearing transcendent.

Lightly, Harry moistened his lips, softly; gently his lips found hers in a sweet, gentle kiss. Amidst the slumber of dreams so did Hermione feel his kiss, loving, affectionate, her soft brown eyes slowly opening her kiss deepening.

A roguish smile past gently across Harry's lips, breaking the innocents of his kiss, eyes opening to fall into depthless, dark brown eyes.

"Good morning," Hermione cooed softly, her fingers reach up to lightly brush back a strand of Harry's own unruly, jet black locks. A smile lightly touched Hermione's lips as slowly Harry reached for her hand. chill it was, deathly cold, void of warmth even with the soft cosy blanket enveloping. Mrs Weasley's voice sounded at the pinnacle of the Burrow's rickety staircase, calling to the slumbering masses of her offspring urging their awakening, enforcing the need for urgency. For today was many of her younglings first day back to school.

Hermione smiled, placed a chaste kiss to Harry's lips before climbing from his embrace and standing to her full height.

"Hello Harry, Hermione," Mrs Weasley greeted as she stepped down the staircase into the main living room. "Sleep well?"

Hermione's eye caught Harry's and each concealed a gentle glint, eyes wrought with mischief and promise.

"Moor… morning!" greeted Fred and George together, following their mother down into the sitting room, themselves still clad in decorative, multihued pyjamas.

"Is everybody up yet? Ron! Ginny!" bellowed Mrs Weasley in a tone so fierce that nearly rocked Hermione's hyper sensitive hearing.

"Alright, mum, bloody hell!" swore Ron from deep within the safety of his bedroom, his voice laced with fatigued and irritation.

"Hermione," Mrs Weasley said gently, a light, reassuring as she took Hermione's hands. "You have to feed; Dumbledore said you may find the journey on the Hogwarts Express difficult if you do not satisfy your hunger first."

"E… Excuse me?" Hermione blinked, sounding almost afraid, "I have to feed, now?"

Mrs Weasley gazed at the vampiric Hermione with motherly affection.

"Yes dear, now, you don't want to be hungry surrounded by so much young blood on a journey as long as the trip to Hogwarts,"

"I… I don't…" Harry's hand softly found hers as he came to stand beside Hermione. Gently Hermione squeezed his hand, feeling his strength, his courage.

"Would you? Please," Hermione said gently, speaking softly to Harry. "I want it to be you,"

Harry smiled, nodding lightly; together they each gazed towards Mrs Weasley.

"Go out into the orchard, dears, it will be more private there," Hermione thanked Mrs Weasley for her understanding. Stepping past her into the kitchen Harry opened the door leading to the rear garden of The Burrow. Hermione ruffled her brow at the sheer intensity of the sun, bright and golden within the early morning sky.

Her hand threaded into Harry's as together they found their way into the comfort of the orchard. The scent of apple blossom sweetened the soft, tranquil ambiance of the tiny paddock. The surrounding field was cosy, filled with a dozen or more, mid-bloom apple trees. A light shower of soft blossom's fell gently about them, fragrant, innocent in their charm. Harry turned to face Hermione, he stood strong, proud, a tower of strength in this moment of weak, demonic nourishing.

"Are you ready?" Harry stated, slowly bearing the line of his throat and his main life artery.

Hermione's touch found his waist, gently her head rested against his chest, feeling the beating cadence of his living heart. Harry's arms enveloped her, fingers gently seeped through her soft, smooth hair. He breathed deep, scenting both the apple blossom in the air and Hermione's sweet, infatuating scent. Her hands softly caressed his strong, sleek frame, felt the power in his arms, the emergent feel of muscle beneath his night Tee.

Softly, his kiss found her brow, felt her slowly kiss the inside of his neck, her fingers coming to the hem of his shirt.

Gently, with daring heightening, so did Harry's lips slowly find hers. They kissed chastely, gentle, innocent caresses before passion erupted.

Their kiss grew fiercer, ardent, pleasured, Hermione's tongue teased intimately at the edges of his mouth, coxing, enticing. Their kiss lifted to a dance, tongues massaged, hands wandered. Hermione forced the shedding of Harry's tee, exposing tight, firm muscle before their kiss deepened once more.

Harry's grip dropped to Hermione's rounded bottom, squeezed, caressed. Hermione moaned into his kiss, felt his enliven sex press against her. She broke the kiss with a growl of lust. Her fangs bore, sharp, bright, demonic. Her teeth sank deep into his life-artery, she began to feed. Gently did she sup from him, his own pleasure raw and excited, felt the onrush of emotions surge through him, as always ensued with her feeding, sexy, erotic, primal in their heat and fervour.

Leisurely Harry's hands lifted to the swell of her bosom. Hermione shivered, felt her body convulse with ecstasy, she drank deep, felt the chill flee. His fingers tweaked the erection of her nipples through the satin of her night dress. Slowly, now well practiced so did Hermione relent in her feeding.

Her tongue lapped heatedly against the wounds she had made, healing them intimately, her blood moistened lips finding Harry's once more. She steadied Harry with her strength, felt their kiss grow with need. Their kiss sweetened to a soft, gentle caress as steadily their passion began to calm, though still simmering at the very edge of their kisses as gently, together they each drew back, gazing deep into each-other's eyes, lost to each other's gaze, lost to the depths of loves embrace.


	10. The Curse

_**Chapter Ten – The Curse**_

_Devastation, obliteration__  
__Are all to the point of exacerbation__  
__There's no explaining my situation, now__  
__Why does this shit keep happening to me?___

_I've held on too long just to let it go now,__  
__Will my inner strength get me through it somehow?__  
__Defying the curse that has taken hold__  
__Never surrender,__  
__I'll never be overcome_

_**The Curse – Disturbed **_

_**Inspired by Man of Constant Sorrow**_

Hermione stalled in the rain washed streets of central London. She swallowed, mouth suddenly moistened ravenously with the taste of blood. Her body trembled, caught in a barrage of emotions, fought the terrible surge of the hunger which had begun to grow the closer she and her friends had come to civilisation.

Stalling in his advancement upon the station, Harry turned to sight Hermione, hands clasped tight to her chest, breathing hitched and laboured. Harry sighted the Weasley family, each of which hastened towards the grand station in a bid to escape the deluge. Harry turned back to Hermione. His arm enveloped her, drew her dear, felt her shiver against his chest.

"What's wrong, Hermione? Talk to me," Harry pleaded, feeling her sob against him, a low growl sounding deep and a animalistic within her throat.

"So much blood… so hungry…" Hermione sobbed, soul caught between two warring entities; a woman of wisdom, strength and courage embattled with a feral, vicious, blood hungered beast.

The blood sung a chorus to her: The beat of a thousand hearts, the rhythmic flow of heated blood through countless arteries. It was as tempting as that of the flow of water across stony beds, teased her as this stream would one parched by thirst.

Drawing off his rain coat, Harry enveloped her in its waterproof protection, drew her near, tender, caring. Slowly, with Harry's encouragement so did Hermione begin to step forward, Hermione's every footfall a labour.

Her eyes followed a youth as he crossed by them, his thoughts and cares lost to the rhythm of his music sounding through his headphones.

"Strong… you're strong, Hermione" Harry stated, his touch finding her rain moist wealth of hair. Together they stepped past the magical barrier which protected platform nine and three quarters from Muggle discovery.

Hermione clutched Harry with a grip of pain. She shook violently, worse than anything they had experienced before. Youths, fresh, healthy, wrought with life, teased at her hunger with their sweet, innocent blood. Hermione buried her head into Harry's neck and began to sob openly.

"I can't do this, Harry… I can't!" Hermione wept.

"Yes you can, Hermione, you can, I believe in you," Harry's words touched her heart, filled her with renewed fortitude, desperately she wished to enter the train, sort an escape from the energy of the platform.

They navigated the cubical strew passageway enveloped in each-others tender embrace. Eyes followed them from many of the sitting stations, whispers issuing behind them, they found Ron stationed at the centre of the train with no one but himself waiting for them.

"Where did-?" His words cut off when he saw the sight of Hermione.

"What's wrong?" he said gently drawing near to her to offer her a seat. Hermione spoke no words, instead she merely settled into a corner of the cubical trembling, eyes strewn with crimson tears.

Ron's eyes met Harry's who shook his head; Ron understood and sat next to Hermione, his arm folding across her shoulders. Together they sat; the whistle sounded and, with a look of concern, felt the Hogwarts Express began to set off.


	11. Caught In The Act

_**Chapter Eleven – Caught In The Act**_

_No, here they stand__  
__The resistance, hand in hand__  
__When you think we are gone__  
__We will rise a brand new dawn___

_Across the universe__  
__Embracing all mankind___

_There's something in our hearts worth fighting for__  
__Some Secrets better left untold__  
__And when the time has come for us to die__  
__We'll take the Secrets to the grave_

_**Secrets – Hammerfall**_

The foul weather stemmed on unceasingly the deeper the Hogwarts Express ventured within the depths of the English countryside. Rain beat down in fierce, brutal lashes, the sky so heavily choked with thunderheads that for a student or carer to glance outside would only fill the heart with gloom and misery.

Were-lights were lit within the magical lanterns which illuminated both the corridors and cubicle's which aligned the train's many carriages. Hermione, still shaken from the intense surge of bloodlust she had felt upon herself at Kings Cross station and upon the magical platform of Nine and Three quarters, sat nonchalantly within a corner of the cubicle, a book of charms opened before her as she studied various magical incantations.

The cubical into which the trio sat had become bustled with company. Many of their companioning students were fellow Gryffindor's each of whom engaged Ron and Harry into hearty conversation, both involving the Hogwarts inter-house championship and the united action and disaster involving the Quidditch World Cup, which had taken place the previous summer.

Ron heartily enjoyed a bustle of attention sounding from his unveiling of his Miniature figurine of the Bulgerian seeker Viktor Krum. The united number of Gryffindor boys, who each huddled around the statuette watched with delight as the tiny Krum marched back and forth, rather less duck footed than its human counterpart.

Harry, gazing quizzically across the cubical towards Hermione, saw the growing frustration deep in her eyes, though this was not in relation to her spell work. Harry, concerned, shuffled across the cubical towards her, enveloping her in a single armed embrace.

"How you feeling?" Harry questioned, sighting the shade of grave dejection which crossed Hermione's visage.

"I'm so hungry," Hermione breathed; speaking in an undertone only Harry could hear. The gloom within her voice was heart-wrenching.

Harry lightly caressed her cheek, his eyes speaking more than mere words ever could. His gaze filled with concern, fear and bright with affection for the woman stationed beside him. The sight of this, reading the emotions clear in his eyes touched Hermione most deeply. A silent question passed between Harry and Hermione. Lightly, Hermione nodded, together they each stood from their seats, stretching slightly.

"Off somewhere?" so questioned Ron his gaze flittering from Harry to Hermione. Harry gave Ron a deep, meaningful gaze.

"Hermione's hungry, we're going to find the snack trolley," Ron's visage altered from questioning surprise to deep, intimate understanding, slowly he too stood up hoping not to attract too much attention.

"Funny enough I'm a little peckish myself, want anything lads?" Shamus, Dean and Neville each spoke of which delights they would care for and Ron nodded in understanding. Harry, placing an arm around Hermione, set off with Ron in the direction of the lunch trolley.

None of the cubicle's found within the Hogwarts express offered any opportunity for Hermione or her chalice to satisfy her hunger. In compromise, the three friends settled into an alcove stationed beside the lavatory cubical. Ron drew into the shadows, followed by Hermione. Harry, himself stood with his back to each of them, turning to face the world beyond them, watching, observing.

Hermione fed, long and deeply, feeling the hunger within herself slowly abating. Ron, now unconsumed by emotions, as came with Hermione's practice, found that without the onrush of emotions the experience for feeding a ravenous vampire was strange, almost frightening. The feel of woozy light-headedness, which only came with the deep loss of blood settled over him. The only consoling thought Ron possessed was that this vampire was Hermione, hoping in his understanding that Hermione would never intentionally hurt him.

After her feeding was finished, Hermione thanked Ron, healing his wounds with a lap of her tongue. Harry turned to face her, Ron patting him unsteadily on the back as he took over watch.

Hermione, cheeks now filled a soft, hearty glow, caressed Harry's form gently. Looking deep into his vivid emerald eyes, softly her lips found his in a sweet, chaste kiss. Slowly, tenderly Hermione lowered her teeth to Harry's throat and began to feed.

"Hello…" a dreamy, airy-fairy voice sounded next to Ron. Startled, Ron turned to sight a young girl, blessed with a wealth of waist length dirty blonde hair complete with bright, vividly blue eyes. Ron, still weak from Hermione's feeding, had slouched against the wall opposite the alcove, almost falling into sleep when the girl had surprised him. The result was a total and unrestricted sight of the feeding Hermione.

Hermione wheeled, blood dripping ominously from her mouth, her fangs, a look of frightful shock in her eyes. The girl, omitting a soft, dreamy air, merely smiled and waved towards them.

"Happy feasting," The girl stated casually, almost as if the sight of a feeding vampire was a most casual sight upon the Hogwarts Express. With a graceful stride the girl stepped past Ronald and into the girl's lavatory. Hermione swallowed, not only through her mouthful of blood, but from fear. Her eyes found Ron's then Harry's and each shared the same bewildered expression.

"Who was that?" so questioned Ron of his friends, Hermione's face grew grim as she turned to face the lavatory.

"Luna Lovegood,"


	12. Offer of Friendship

_**Chapter Twelve – Offer of Friendship**_

_And as I close my eyes I see everything__  
__So much clearer, clearer than ever before__  
__And as I step inside to feel everything...__  
__I am still the living dead__  
__I am still the living dead _

_**Living Dead – Poisonblack**_

Slowly, upon healing the wounds she had inflicted upon her dear Harry, Hermione turned anxiously towards her chalice. Both Harry and Ron's gazes were filled with apprehension, trepidation and fear. So was the result of their discovery amidst Hermione's feeding by the oddity Luna Lovegood.

"What are we to do?" so questioned Harry of his friends, speaking the silent question which passed between them. Gently, comfortingly, Harry came to stand behind Hermione, enveloping her within his embrace, his touch one of strength and reassurance. Hermione, swallowing the crimson blood which had moistened her tongue, glanced towards her two most trusted friends. Her hands found Harry's in tenderness, affection; gently Hermione removed herself from Harry's embrace, stepped towards the girl's lavatory. Her gaze turned back to each of her friends, looks, gazes of concern and anxiety present between them, she smiled gingerly, cautiously she entered the chamber beyond.

Lovegood stood at the mirror wall complete with a line of washbasins, the heavily tiled, cubical strew lavatory thick with the scent of perfumes, wash soap and magical disinfectant. The scent was sickly to Hermione's enhanced senses, where once it would have been pleasant.

Hermione turned to face the mirror wall beside her. Although she expected it, the sight of her non-reflection was as much as a shock to her system as had been her tainting.

Standing casually before the mirror wall, her own visage reflected back at her, Luna cast her gaze towards Hermione, absently admiring her own overly large earrings wrought in what looked to be plated silver and gold enveloped triangles.

Luna offered Hermione a light, gentle smile before turning to fully face the shaken vampire behind her.

"You can look forever, Vampyren, you will never see yourself smile back." Hermione started at Luna's words, her use of the word Vampyren the ancient Danish terminology for Vampire. Hermione glanced towards Luna's neck tie; about her throat was rested the royal blue and bronze colourations of Ravenclaw House. Hermione knew this girl to be wise beyond what her idiosyncratic nature would lead some to believe.

"Luna," Hermione said gently enveloping her hands together in hope and respect. "I've come to ask for your silence."

Luna gazed towards the vampiric Hermione, lifting a lone pale eyebrow, a look of mock surprise evident within her silvery blue eyes.

"Three things that cannot be long hidden: the sun, the moon and the truth," so quoted Luna. Hermione smiled at the use of the ancient quote, knowing long of Buddha's philosophies and teachings. So did Luna once again show the wisdom beyond the oddity.

"The Dalai Lama once quoted: our prime purpose in life is to help others. And if you can't help them at least don't hurt them," Hermione stated gently, Luna cocked her hip and smiled.

"Wisdom is the trait found in those of Ravenclaw house, yet you were sorted into the house of warriors, you are wise and strong, but is it physical or compassionate strength?"

"I seek not destruction or chaos, I am a peace seeker," Hermione informed, Luna smiled, stepping forward to tweak Hermione's wealth of chestnut tresses.

"I will keep quiet because I believe in your compassion, but the truth cannot be restricted, your secret will not hold," Hermione swallowed, gazed towards the mirror. Stepping forth Hermione saw no haze of breath upon the glass, nor saw any sight of a person within the depths aside from Lovegood.

Luna smiled lightly and stepped behind Hermione, placing her hands upon her shoulders. Softly she began to speak, once more in wisdom.

"How will you explain your inability to eat, your lack of reflection to other girls, these are questions you soon will need to answer. Also, I would do something about the many Stellasects which infest your hair," Hermione blinked at the mention of the fanciful Stellasects, but Luna's words, much to the heartache of Hermione, had spoken with wisdom supreme. Hermione shuddered though not with internal chill but from fright and truth, Luna, who amidst social circles, was whispered to be so bizarre, had filled Hermione with a wealth of truth and questions she was yet to decipher an answer for.

"Vampyren, you are going to need friends in this venture, friends other than your chalice," Luna spoke wisely; turning Hermione gazed imploringly at her.

"Will you help me?" pleaded Hermione, Luna smiled, gently she nodded.

Luna stepped first from the lavatory chamber, tucking back a stray strand of her waist length, dirty blonde hair. Her gaze lifted, a slight smile crossing her lips as she eyed Ronald. Ron blinked, the girls dreamy eyes were as that of pools of depthless mystery and he turned away in haste and nerves, his gaze flitting back to Luna.

Hermione followed in her chain, closing the door behind them as she did. Her touch found Harry's hand who squeezed gently. Turning to each of her chalice Hermione swallowed.

"Luna, has offered to help us," Harry blinked, Ron started in surprise, Luna however gazed not at them, but at the emptiness of the air before her, drawing slow circles in the air with her wand. Ron eyed Harry who glanced back, their gaze flitting towards Luna. Ron gave a definitive gesture, twirling his finger about his ear in a motion for 'Round the twist," but each of them was shocked as, from the very air before her, so did Luna transfigure a simple, unadorned chalice.

Luna reached forth, cupped the drinking vessel in both her hands, turning to face Hermione and the others.

"I believe we should state, despite what conflicts or standards may part us, us, we will strive to support Hermione to the fullest." so stated Luna holding out the vessel for each of them. Upon glancing into the depths of the chalice, so could those gathered see that it was almost filled to the brim with a blood red condiment. Ron gazed from Hermione to Harry, glanced one more time at Luna before he first sipped from the chalice. The drink was fruity, filled with taste and rich in volume, Harry next, seeing Ron wink, reached forward to sip. Luna finally took a slow sip, her eyes closing, drinking long and deep. Slowly she lowered the cup which dissolved in her hands.

Harry felt it, a spiritual wrench towards Hermione. They each felt it a sense of unity and closeness so shared with Hermione and together they each gazed, and smiled.


	13. Doppelganger

_**Chapter Thirteen – Doppelganger**_

- Inspired by Man of Constant Sorrow -

A hand rested upon Hermione's shoulder, ancient, wizen, firm. Whispers issued amongst her, emanating from students, eyes met that of the elderly gentleman who stood close to her, it wasn't like the headmaster, noble and true as he was, to mingle with the students at entrance.

Normally Professor Dumbledore rested at the head table, stationed within his exquisite golden chair, looking out across the student's, new and returning, his air one of wisdom and strength.

"Miss Granger, if you would?" Hermione's eyes met that of Harry's, gazed at each of her friends in turn. Some, Ron and Luna nodded, waved and stepped into the great hall, only Harry stood firm near Hermione.

"It's alright, Harry," Hermione breathed, softly reaching forth to caress his face, he sighed at her touch. Hermione turned, fell into step behind Dumbledore as he drew her to the heads office.

"He is loyal to you," Dumbledore praised, looking upon the young vampire, her step equal with his own.

"And I to him," Hermione stated proudly, Dumbledore smiled.

"Friendship, love, honour, each of these are traits prized by your house, the sorting hat chooses well."

Dumbledore placed a hand upon Hermione's shoulder, drew her onto the revolving staircase behind the stone griffin which guarded his office. He beckoned forward, bayed her entrance, she stepped in before him, and to her surprise, was met with a number of smiling faces.

"Hello, little night dweller," so stated the werewolf, Remus Lupin, much to Hermione's delight.

"Professor," Hermione smiled, offered her hand to him. At her tainting, following her humiliation and horror at St Mongos, Hermione thought of only one person who could truly understand the prejudices she faced, her former professor, the man who stood before her now, for he too bore a similar curse.

Professor Minerva McGonagall also stood proudly within the office, Dumbledore beckoned; Remus lifted a large, ironbound strongbox onto Dumbledore's desk.

"Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall stated, gazing towards her with eyes filled with pride. "We have gathered to insure your safety here at Hogwarts.

"All of you?" Hermione breathed, gazing from her Professor's to the ironbound strongbox. "What is happening?"

"Well," Remus stated, pressing his weight down onto the chest. It was only then that Hermione noticed that it was struggling against Remus' grip. "As I am sure you know, your hunger shall soon be tested to the utter extremes once you begin your life back at school."

Hermione nodded, spoke quietly.

"Yes, but I have my chalice to help me through," so stated Hermione, the professor's nodded. It was Dumbledore who addressed her next.

"Mr Potter and Mr Weasley are both noble people, but there are situations which require magical attention." Dumbledore stepped forward, lifted a large oval mirror onto his desk.

"As you know Miss Granger, you no longer cast a reflection which will draw many whispers and cause much fear amidst the youngsters."

"We seek to correct this," so spoke Lupin, his voice straining under the protests of the strongbox. "What we have within this chest is a mirror dweller; I trust you know what these dark creatures are called?"

"Doppelgangers?" Hermione questioned, Remus nodded.

"Very nasty pieces of work, but, with force of will one can push a doppelganger into a mirror, where it will serve as a reflection. This is what we hope to achieve here."

"You…? You want me to duel a doppelganger?" Hermione's voice cracked, she shuddered. McGonagall strolled forward, placed a comforting hand upon her young student.

"You are strong; it is an honour to tell you, as I have taught you for many years, that you possess a strength and wisdom to rival the greatest,"

"Harry is stronger than me, magically, professor," Hermione stated, seemingly looking to correct her head of house, Remus Lupin chuckled.

"You each, you and Harry, were the finest students I have ever had the pride to instruct. Harry is magically powerful, but you are wise in peace and wisdom, it is this peace we hope to keep,"

Hermione, galvanised, prideful, drew her wand, straightened herself and faced the strongbox. Dumbledore nodded towards Remus, who stepped away from the ironbound chest. Hermione swallowed, her former professor waved a hand before the lock. The large padlock fell away, the strongbox flew open.

It sifted as smoke, a dark, obsidian vapour seeping a fog into the office. Candles were extinguished; a dark shadow fell across the room. It lifted. Hands, clawed, elongated, black as nightshade slowly stretched out, the creature crawled, appeared, fear clenched Hermione's heart.

The Doppelganger erected itself, vaguely human, though it appeared to be fashioned from living shadow, it face was a mask of horror slits within the shade served as eyes, its mouth, bore with obsidian fangs bared. Hermione's breathing grew raged, fear threatened to claim her. But, with a bare of her own fangs, with a hiss of defiance Hermione casted the repelling charm.

The Doppelganger staggered, grew enraged. Hermione swallowed her fear, forced herself to stand strong, bore the strength of her house. Once more the Doppelganger staggered back, Hermione advanced.

The shadow creature hissed, its clawed hands brandished, it lunged. Hermione's heart filled with her love, her passion for Harry, her affection for parents, the Weasley's. A roar, a flash of white light struck the beast. It illuminated all of the office with its brilliance. The beast screamed, it struggled, Hermione, fangs bared, eyes bright, thrust forward. The creature drew back, fell backwards, the mirror claimed the beast with tendrils of light and glass. The creature screamed in defiance, struggled, before, with a final thrust of her wand, it was totally absorbed by the mirror.

The white light extinguished, Hermione panted, her wand lowered, her pride strong. Dumbledore's eyes met that of his fellows. Both Remus and McGonagall understood what they had just seen. Hermione, unaware of what her duel had revealed, stepped towards the mirror.

She swallowed, approached gingerly, to her utter shock, her face now stared back at her, though it was a reflection she did not expect. Her visage, pale, wrought with the flush of fresh feeding. Her eyes, so deep, so true gazed back at her with strength and wisdom. She looked… beautiful.

A light clapping filled the room, Hermione lifted her head, and saw her three professors gazing upon her, each with pride, she smiled and turned back to her reflection.


	14. Concern and Suspicion

Chapter Fourteen – Concern and Suspicion

Hermione settled herself within the embrace of the Gryffindor common room's plush, well-worn sofa. She swallowed, the blood moistening her tongue a result of nervous tension. In her hand, resting upon her thighs lay a fine mother-of-pearl mirror.

She drew in a deep, steadying breath though, as much as she hoped it would change the result was always the same. Her lungs would not lift or fall; this of all things was the most insistent indication that she was truly dead.

Lifting the mirror to her face, Hermione gazed upon the visage which greeted her within the depths of the glass. This action was not out of any sense of vanity or egotistical reasoning, instead this action was a result of disbelief. Still her body filled with shock at the sight of her reflection. Her core roiled with unease as she gazed disbelievingly upon the woman staring back at her.

Never, not once in her entire lifetime had Hermione ever considered herself beautiful. Her self-respect found in such a position had been totally, utterly destroyed, a result of instant bullying within her life at school, both magical and Muggle.

Now, gazing upon her tainted reflection she couldn't help but wonder, was this truly her reflection, or was this the Doppelganger and its dark, twisted games?

Softly her fingers caressed the glass, slight crimson tears touching the edge of her eyes, her memory sifted back to her imprisonment within St Mongos, the words of the matron healer as she exhibited her to all of her students.

"_See the swell of the breasts class? The narrowness of the waist? This is classic signs of the temptress. Men are attracted to the sheer allure of the vampire, united with their intoxicating scent which lures in prey_."

Hermione swallowed, tears of crimson seeped down her cheek. Her hand drifted to the swell of her breast, continued its caress the curve of her waist.

She could deny it no longer, the vampire taint her changed her, offered her all of the necessities needed for a life surrounded by darkness.

Her thoughts shifted, questions began to roil, tainting her belief in the affection she now felt, affection she had received from Harry. He, Harry, had never exhibited affection towards her before, she had always believed that, unlike Ron, his feelings were totally platonic. So what were these feelings she felt emanating from him when she fed? Was this a result of her transformation? Was he only attracted to her because of her newly acquired beauty?

The door to the portrait hole opened, Hermione turned, sighted the new Gryffindor prefect leading a number of first year students into the common room. Harry entered soon after, flanked by Ron and the Weasley twins.

"So Harry, you going for it?" questioned George Weasley, Hermione's eyebrows raised with intrigue.

"I don't know, maybe?" so said Harry uneasily.

"What's going on?" questioned Hermione, tucking her mirror underneath the body of the sofa as she stood up.

"You weren't at the feast!" Ron blustered excitedly.

"No… I…" Hermione gave Ron a hard trying look, attempting to exhibit some sense of caution within him, trying not to draw attention to the fact that she had not been present at the opening feast. Harry, seeing the look between she and their friend, drew in close to Hermione, threaded his arm about her shoulder, caressed her face affectionately.

"You still got that dickey stomach?" Harry questioned tenderly, Hermione gazed thankfully towards him, her heart lifting at his caution and understanding.

"Yes… I… I didn't feel like eating,"

"But you ca-" Harry shot Ron an extremely scathing look, the twins, who understood Hermione's affliction clapped him hard about the head in an attempt to strike out his idiocy.

A number of Gryffindor students chuckled, Ron shot them each a dark look, the students convinced that this was brotherly banter between the Weasley's. Ron slowly understanding, nodded slightly, Harry rolled his eyes in mock surprise. Ron was slow, but he wasn't stupid, well most of the time he wasn't. The twins smiled and together each of them, twins, Ron and Harry, settled down onto sofa and armchair to inform Hermione on what she had missed from down in the Great Hall.

"The Triwizard Tournament?" Hermione cooed some moments after, gazing at each of her friends in surprise, "It's going to be held this year?"

"Yep," Fred Weasley chimed, "A thousand galleons prize money,"

"And eternal glory," put in George.

"But… but this is going to be really dangerous," Hermione stated factitiously, "Champions have died in this tournament in the past, I've read all about them and-"

"Hermione!" Ron moaned, infuriated, "You sure now how to blacken a good mood,"

Hermione scowled darkly towards him.

"Well, forgive me for caring," Hermione snapped, crossing her arms, visage scornful. Harry, lightly touched her shoulder, his voice filled with care and compassion.

"Hermione, Dumbledore and the others are taking precautions this year; it won't be as dangerous as before. The champions will be fine." Hermione gazed at him, offered Harry a light smile, she sighed, standing to her feet.

"Well, if Dumbledore is taking precautions we should all look forward to a great event," Hermione stretched, her school robes concealing her figure, though Hermione was sure she sighted a number of boys sweeping their gazes across her new, curvaceous body. Hermione, seeing the uneasy, cautious glances he was offering her, tendered a light wink towards Harry, before waving good-naturedly at the group.

"I'm off to bed, night," the group returned her interjection, she felt eyes following her, she turned at the arch of the stairs. Her eyes caught Harry's; she smiled, waved, a gesture he returned lightly. Fred and George turned to face Hermione, smiled when she disappeared up the staircase. Turning they each eyed Harry knowingly.

"Something going on between you two?" George Weasley teased; Harry's visage grew wrought with crimson.

"Shut up!" Harry barked in friendly scorn, he stood; Ron following in his train as together they each retreated to the comfort of their beds.

Long into the night Harry lay awake, quiet, thoughtful, listening to a number of differing snores and grunts. His thoughts drifted, turned to Hermione, his heart began to beat. Harry rolled over, cuddled his pillow, his mind wrought with thoughts of his friend as he drifted into dreams.


	15. Nightly Understanding

Chapter Fifteen – Nightly Understanding

The slight rustle of the drapes which surrounded his four poster stirred Harry James Potter from the depths of slumber, his assumptions that of a simple, nightly breeze which had disturbed his hangings. Slowly, languidly so Harry reached for his glasses, drawing them upon his face, turned his gaze in preparation of attending to his drapes.

Harry started, shock, surprise evident as his gaze turned to the base of his bed. His heart rocketed into his throat, stifling breathe as, standing at the foot of his bed, visage wrought with exceptional beauty, her wealth of dark, chestnut toned tresses framing her form, Hermione Granger stood before him.

His heart, swallowed and returned to his breast, began a rapid staccato, his breathing hitched as his eyes drank in her frame. Clad in a silken, wispy nightdress of silver grey, so the rays of moonshine gleam silver highlights in her hair, offered slight glimpse of her body, hands clasped together innocently at her heart as she offered him a slight, gentle smile.

Harry tried to speak, to question the reasoning behind this visit, but his mind was numbed with erotic thoughts and all that could resound was a slight, innocent mumble.

Hermione's touch came to the nape of her dress, slowly, seductively so did she begin to lower the straps until they fell away revealing her frame, the dress pooling at her ankles. Harry gulped, finding his voice slightly as she stood seemingly waiting for a command.

"Hermione…? What's…?" the vampiric female lifted a finger to her soft, full lips in a gesture of silence. The sight of her body was more than arousing, her slim, curvy waist leading to perky, young breasts. Slight nipples crowned her chest, full and puckered at the chill of the air.

Slowly, with hunger evident in her eyes, the vampire mounted Harry's bed, began to crawl seductively across her the frame of her friend. Harry groaned as he sex found his straining erection. His touch came to her waist; slowly Hermione began to grind her hips back and forth upon his straining manhood.

Harry groaned, her hips grinding back and forth steaming flames of passion through his young frame, her body sliding gracefully back and forth, some hard and erotic, some slight and teasing. Hermione slowly lowering herself so that her eyes were directly with he's. Her lips touched his own, chill, deathly cold, Harry's gaze falling to her mouth where her fangs were exposed. In swiftness, Hermione lowered her head, sinking her fangs deep into his neck and artery, drawing a strained, erotic gasp of pain from Harry. Once more Hermione began to feed. Harry's touch lifted to a single breast, felt its soft weight in his palm as he squeezed, felt her smile as she continued to feed.

Gently, with a soft lap of her tongue, Hermione began to form into soft, crystalline vapour. Slowly, drawing a cry of protest and sorrow from Harry, so she began to disappear. Harry reached for her, his hand falling through a frame of mist as she vanished.

Harry's eyes drew open. The air was warm, no breeze, only soft deep shadow. His breathing was hitched, his sex strained against his constricting pyjamas. Harry glanced about him, looking for Hermione; hoping to sight some vision of his friend. She could not be seen anywhere.

The strident snores of Ron and his fellow Gryffindor boys disturbed Harry's musings. His hand felt cold, the presence of Hermione's slight breast still issuing a sensation upon his flesh as he tried to make sense of the happenings. Was it a dream? A dream so real, so vivid that it could affect him this way?

A slight breeze issued in through the wooden shutters. Harry turned, pulled the drape of his blankets over him, and attempted to find rest.

Soft, shimmering mist issued beneath the door of the girls dormitory, gently collected, connected, formed the outline of a woman. Slowly, the vapour took form, solidified to the body of the vampiric Hermione Granger. In her hand so she held her silken nightdress, her lips red with freshly drawn blood. Her tongue caressed the blood from her lips, swallowed the warm, sweet liquid. She smiled as she felt the stirrings of desire deep within her loins. Now she knew, someone loved her, desired her more than simple affection or taint-induced lust.

"I'm yours," Hermione pledged, her tongue playing over her long sharp canines as she smiled. Soft, wolfish and laced with passion.


	16. Night Pleasures

Chapter Sixteen – Night Pleasures

The students of Hogwarts gathered in the great hall, ready to greet the chosen students and teachers of Beauxbaton and Durmstrang who shall be competing in the Triwizard tournament.

Slight whispers and mutters drawn from the students as they waited. Slowly, with the grate of stone on stone the high doors to the Great Hall opened omitting a number of differing teens.

Ron, who had sighted his hero, Viktor Krum at the disembarking of the Durmstrang students shifted slightly left and right on his section of bench, craning his neck to get a better view of the slouched, duck-footed Seeker. Harry's eyes caught Hermione's, his piercing green eyes rolling with exasperation at the idiocy of his oldest friend. Ron continued to babble, muttering questions and admirations.

Curiously Hermione straddled her bench, turned to sight the entrance of the students. Many of the sons of Durmstrang were broad, thick through the chest and shoulders, visages crowned by short cropped hair.

The students of Beauxbaton, unlike the sensible cloaks of fur or wool worn by the Hogwarts and Durmstrang students, were garbed of a soft, bristling silk, accentuating the frame and allure of the girls, though were not practical for the highland weather of Hogwarts.

A single son of Beauxbaton shifted, turned his gaze towards Hermione. His eyes were deep, dark and unbelievably beautiful. His visage was strong, handsome in an elven fashion. But it was in his smile that Hermione felt it.

Fear. A deep, primal terror began to fill Hermione as she fell deeper and deeper into his gaze. She began to tremble; she turned away, the effort of doing so was terrible, draining of her will as she turned to face her friends.

"What's wrong?" Harry questioned of her, reaching forth to take her hand in his. Her touch was warm, veins filled with the life's blood she had supped from Ron just moments past.

"I… I don't know," Hermione whispered, her words scarcely reaching him as their headmaster began to speak. Soon Hermione turned her attention to the plates of food which appeared before her at the many hungry forms which surrounded her.

Hermione's heart ached to see so many of her favourite foods before her being consumed, herself unable to sample even her favourite: Roast Potatoes, owing to her taint. Her eyes drifted to Ron, who was shovelling portions of meat and mash into his mouth in almost indecent abundance. Hermione swallowed, shaking her head in disgust as she glanced back towards the teenage Beauxbaton visitor. To her surprise it seemed that he possessed no appetite. Perhaps he possessed a differing taste even with the many foreign foods available. His eyes met hers once more across the hall, he smiled, dark, roguish, handsome.

The ambiance of the feast slowly settled with the disappearance of both main course and dessert. Once more Dumbledore's voice echoed about the Great Hall as he spoke, speaking of competition, guile and glory. Hermione's eye continued to drift towards the Beauxbaton student as he spoke. It seemed his eyes never left her, even if he seemed to be listening to everything Hogwarts' aged Headmaster could say.

When at last Dumbledore had revealed the Goblet of Fire from its casket, its flames blue and flickering, the students were dismissed. Together, both Harry and Hermione stepped towards the great doors, Harry's hand threaded almost instinctively into hers, though her gaze continued to wander. Sighting this, Harry turned his attention to whom or what had captivated Hermione this evening. A scowl of warning and protection flitted across his face as he sidled Hermione out of sight of the Beauxbaton student, himself instinctively at odds with the elder boy's incredible beauty. The elder teen seemed to chuckle, almost mockingly as he lifted a finger to his brow. He saluted Harry before he and the rest of the foreign students began to stand, following in step behind the Hogwarts students.

"Who was that?" Harry questioned of Hermione as together they climbed the stairs leading to Gryffindor tower.

"I don't know," Hermione said truthfully though this did none to stiffen the jealousy she heard in his voice.

"I'm afraid of him," Hermione whispered, her words evoking a look of protection and concern from her friend. Harry's arm enveloped her, hand resting at her hip as he squeezed caringly. Her touch came to the golden Heartagram she wore about her neck. Together, each stepped into the main common room feeling the warmth of the room resonating from the log fire. Hermione offered Harry a light kiss on the cheek, extracting herself from his embrace and made for the girls dormitory. Her heart beat with passion though she could not keep the sight of the student's visage from her imaginings.

The fear was terrible, despairingly Hermione threw herself upon her bed, still dressed in her Hogwarts robes, she shuddered, coiling her blankets about her trying to understand these new, alien emotions.

* * *

Hermione claimed her lover with a kiss, a kiss of promise, erotic bliss and passion. Their kissed heightened, drawing moans and mutters of hunger, desire and need. He lay over her, his mouth showering kisses across her clear skin. Hermione moaned, threading her fingers through his unruly dark hair as his lips claimed her nipple. She pulled him deep, deeper still, his free hand sliding up the drape of her nightdress, which she had transfigured before sleep. His touch massaged, tantalised, caressed, the fullness of her leg, felt the texture of her skin.

His palm found the inside of her thigh, her body aching, felt the pounding of her heart as his lips claimed hers once more. Heat, silk, the feel of her knickers moist with need.

Alarm slammed into her, drew her awake as her dreams still invaded her mind. Her breathing hitched as she sat up, husky, raw with need. Moonlight steamed into the chamber, passions heightened in her blood.

"_What is this_?" Hermione mused, remembering the night she had come to him. Neither she, nor Harry had spoken of that night but the dreams came far to frequent to be simple night pleasures. Hermione stood, drawing a soft flannel robe about her.

Reaching into the draw of her bedside table, Hermione extracted her book: Vampire Traits – Strengths and Weaknesses. She had reread this book a number of times, though, owing to the passion, the heat in her veins, she could not recall the passage she sort.

Cradling the book beneath one arm, Hermione stepped down into the main common room of Gryffindor tower. The light was low, muted, flickering embers of the fire burnt down; only the faint light of candle flame now offered any illumination, though the ambiance was warm, pleasant, comfortable.

Settling herself down into her favourite arm chair, Hermione opened the book and began to read.


	17. Comic Moment

Chapter Seventeen – Comic Moment

Harry stifled a yawn as slowly he emerged from the coverlets and drapes of his four poster bed. His hand reached instinctively for his bedside table; where he placed his thick lensed spectacles upon his visage. Harry blinked in surprise to sight his oldest friend: Ronald Weasley fully dressed and clad in his Hogwarts uniform. Harry glanced towards his watch, was even more surprised to see that the hour resided in the early stages of the day.

"Morning mate!" Ron chimed his tone heightened with excitement and joy. "Fancy coming to meet Krum with me?"

Harry sniggered, his eyes rolling with exasperation at his friend's idolisation. Slowly, Harry worked the kinks out of his form, drawing a groan of satisfaction as his once docile muscles responded to awakening.

"Let me have a shower first," Harry stated wiping sleep from his eyes. Harry stood, unbuttoning his pyjama top, tossing it casually to the side unveiling his fine, youthful form, collecting a handful of garb as he did.

"Hurry up then, grab some quills too," Ron ordered, coiling up a towel which he had used for his early morning cleansing and snapping it towards his fellow Gryffindor like a whip. Harry dodged the offensive weapon, catching the second blow with his Quidditch honed reflexes. Both Harry and Ron engaged in a duel of strength, Ron placing his weight into the pull, Harry standing strong, immovable.

A slight smile played at Harry's lips, he released his grip on the towel. Ron clattered backwards into a nearby table, falling arse over tit at Harry's sudden lack of resistance. Ron scowled in frustration and annoyance; Harry merely chuckled, offering Ron a wink as he stepped towards the shower room.

A single, marble constructed wet room awaited beyond the door, complete with wash basin and simple toilet. Harry turned on the shower, the pipes gurgled beginning to flow heated water onto his outstretched hand.

Harry stripped off his pyjama bottoms, lifted his own cleansing items from a waterproof bag and stepped beneath the heated jets of comforting water. The water felt soothing, cleaning him of the nights haze as he worked shampoo into his moist wealth of hair.

It was here that Harry began to sing. The song was a Muggle song made famous via Muggle television, originally sung by one of the greatest rock voices of a generation: Jimi Jamison.

Harry mimed strumming a guitar as his voice carried beyond the wash room to his fellow Gryffindor boys. The now roused Shamus Finnigan and Neville Longbottom gazed in confusion at each other, while Dean Thomas knew of the song, itself the theme tune to his Muggle stepfather's guilty pleasure.

"Baywatch! Hell yeah!" Dean hooted afro crowned head banging to Harry's voice.

"Bay…what?" Ron questioned his gaze confused, but Dean was too engrossed in his morning dance to offer a response.

"Who's the rock god?" A sweet voice issued behind the boys, emanating from the doorway. A number of boys shrieked, hiding their frames with shirt or coverlet as Hermione Granger stood, seemingly captivated more by the sound of the singers voice than the sight of the many semi-nude boys.

"Hermione? What's Harry singing?" Ron questioned of his friend, a light smile touched Hermione's lips.

"I'll be ready, it's a great song, puts me in mind of The Hoff,"

Hermione shuddered in pleasure; Ron merely gazed towards her, seemingly more confused at her answer than informed any deeper.

The door to the shower room burst open, omitted a fist pumping Harry, hair moist, body dry clad in Hogwarts shirt and trousers. Harry charged Hermione, his powerful arms lifting her high into the air, spinning her in a twirl as he sung the chorus of the song. Slowly Harry lowered her, Hermione's legs wrapping about his frame, herself resting lovingly in his arms. Their lips met in a kiss, the boys whooped, Ron smiled as their kissed grew in passion.

"Before you two get it on," Dean Thomas spoke interrupting the couple, drawing their gaze towards the dark youth. "Would you mind taking this somewhere else, we want to get dressed."

Hermione offered Dean a playful smile, before Harry lowered her back to solid footing. Hermione and her chalice exited the room, arm in arm, as they descended the staircase; Harry and Hermione absently humming along to their own private tune.

**AU**_ – Hey, I just wanted to say, I know this isn't a very serious chapter to a rather serious story, I just felt the mood was getting a little too heavy, so I decided to have some fun. Hope you all don't mind. Thanks for reading and please remember reviews are welcome. _


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